The Storyteller S1 E1: The Third Kind
by JJ's Universe Studios
Summary: Presented before you know is the revisited version of the Storyteller's first episode and soon to be the first season. Can the Storyteller's new incarnation save the tri-state area from what lurks within the fog?
1. When the Fog lifts

It was a warm yet chilly September day. The last day, to be exact. Some of the trees in the tri-state area were losing their touch of green color. The nights have been getting colder and colder leading up to this day. There would be a mist every once and awhile that dropped down on the streets. The citizens would say this was quite unusual because this has never happened before. Was there something behind this strange phenomenon? Or was this just Mother Nature doing one of her magic tricks? They have been getting a lot of rain, however, and since the nights are getting colder, they seemed fine about it. This continued until one night the mist cleared and someone was killed on their front lawn.

" Hello? Anyone?", cried a small girl about six or seven years of age.

She wondered around her home, thinking. Where did her mom and dad go? They were just inside the house watching TV downstairs. She climbed back up the stairs to check if maybe they were sleeping. The door to the parent's bedroom was closed. She swore last time she saw it, it was wide open and no one was there. She had checked before and even double check. Did someone break into her house? Who would? Why? These questions made her panic. Maybe there is someone here. She leaned her ear against the door and listened, taking in slow steady breaths. She heard the shower running and someone snoring. It was almost one-thirty, so that means that her mom would be taking a shower, then head to work. She was almost certain she was in there...

" M-mommy?"

" Yes sweety?" a voice replied.

She sighed in relief and smiled.

" Do you know where daddy is?"

" He's in bed right now. He'll get up in a moment."

" Ok!"

She ran back to her room and laid back in bed. She was so happy that she wasn't alone… but it came back to her. She checked there before, no one was there. She checked again, still no one. For the third time… she was there and so was her dad. She knew something was up and sprung back up from her bed. She ran back to the door and tried to open it. The doorknob was freezing. She quickly pulled her hand away from it.

" Mom! The doorknob! It-"

" I know dear. Just go back in your room."

She thought that was an unusual response from her mom, but she did so anyways. She sat in her bed and waited for something to happen. She sat there for ten minutes before she heard the door open.

" Dad-"

Her words were cut short as if her vocal cords disappeared. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She tried to scream. It sounded like she was screaming, but very very quietly. She smelled something foul like metal or newly painted tar. She wanted to cover her nose from the horrible stench but couldn't move her arms or legs. Tears strolled down her face. She tried again and again to call out to someone, anyone, for help. Her father crept into the room normally as if nothing was happening. He stared at her hungrily.

" Daddy?" she mouthed.

His father pupils turned into black slits surrounded by red. His smile was the most disturbing thing you would even see. Where his normal, white, square teeth would be, were jagged teeth, all bloody red as if his teeth grew in that way. His smile reached from ear to ear. He had no tongue which was the strangest thing. She screamed again. Still, nothing protruded from her mouth.

" Come here, my princess," it hissed. " It's just me. Come to papa."

She tried to shake her head and move. She closed her eyes tightly.

" Ok… here I come!",his voice sounded more monster like.

She heard it's footsteps coming closer and closer. She squeaked and again tried to move. At first, she heard nothing, then she heard a high pitch monster like scream. She fell to the floor and took the chance to escape. She still kept her eyes closed as she tripped down the steps, and bolted out the front door without any shoes on. She panted and slowly opened her eyes. Her house was in front of her, the yard perfectly raked with no leaf insight. She felt the grass between her toes and the wind against her sweety cheeks. She tried to think of something else, like her friends and real family. She kept coming back to the same thing. Whatever that thing was in her room, it was not her father and it wanted her dead. She looked toward the neighbor's house and decided she would hide there. But she discovered that she couldn't move her feet. She smelled it again and screamed again. Only this time, it didn't go through the front door. For the first time, she let out a perfect, clear, scream as she was forced to look up in horror. Her father decided to jump out of her bedroom window while he descended slowly onto the very same spot she stood with his mouth wide open.


	2. The Alien and the Girl

The Storyteller's POV:

The sparks flew freely around my ship; they bounced off the walls and off my face and hair as my fingers danced around the controls of my time capsule, pulling switches and turning dials. I was afraid that my ginormous hair would catch fire... again. I paid no attention to the explosions and the dangling wires. I felt the tiny broken glass pieces pierce my back when a bulb exploded on the wall behind me. I gasped in pain. I was bleeding of course, all humans do that… only except i'm not one as you can possibly tell. I felt the wounds sealing themselves up. I sighed in relief. It felt like some placed nice cold ice packs on my sweaty, bleeding, back. As for the rest of my body, it was still making changes internally. Mostly just the finishing touches. Sometimes, I felt a slight, sharp, jolt of pain in my body that had me on my hands and knees coughing.

It's now been about good twenty-five minutes or so since I "changed". My ship was doing far more better then I was. The sharp pains were now happening continuously to the point where I stayed on the floor and screamed louder than my ship.

'What nonsense is this?' I asked myself.

This has never happened to me before. I regenerated once and I never had any pains like this. Why is this body so important? Did I do something wrong? Did I regenerate too late? Maybe too early? Is that even possible? My mind raced with questions as I tried to return to the console. My ship suddenly launched me back too far and I fell out the doors. I quickly grabbed the door handle and held on for dear life. I reached for the other one but I clenched my aching heart.

"GAAAAAH!"

I looked down and saw the city below. The lights and the blur of streets, cars, and buildings was all I can see. The lights hurt my eyes so I quickly shut them, only to open them again to see a big glass tower over my shoulder. I can see the reflection coming closer and closer.

"GAAAAAH!"

I turned back around, took out my sonic, and aimed it at one of the levers. The lever dropped down and the TARDIS shot straight up in the air. The ship down after flying carefully over the building. I flipped over inside and closed the doors behind me. I exhaled in relief as the ship returned to it's normal-ish flight patterns. The TARDIS was still grunting and heaving, trying to stay in the air. It's been through so much, I must get it down to the surface or else we'll crash.

" Can things get any worse for me?"

I noticed my voice sounded shockingly different. This wasn't the first time I heard it and called it that. I had to do another self-check, I had to! New body, new arms, new legs, new-

" The skin tone is oddly different," I said, rubbing my hands like I was washing them. " I bet my bottom dollar that I fried it. Maybe more like a simmer."

My poor ship was making noises I didn't like. She sounded like she was dying like how I was. My poor coral TARDIS… I got to my feet and started pressing buttons I hardly remembered. I felt a wave of… happiness… like I was no danger at all. This was not me, I would never think this way. I am in danger! I slowly realized my brain was changing. My old self is still clinging on by a thread, mentally. But I had to let him go. It's time for change. The way how he thinks... the way he walks… they way how he acts… the way he...

Oh! Why would you look at that! I'm pressing colorful buttons! What marvelous buttons! What does this lever do? I felt the TARDIS drop violently. I quickly jumped around the console and shouted, " OY NO! DON'T!"

I slammed the lever down and the TARDIS went into hover mode. I checked the monitor again and saw my face. " Oooo look at yoooou! Where am I anyways?" I poked the screen. Nothing seemed to happen. " Oh it's not one of those fancy touchscreens. Why am I saying my thoughts out loud?" Why was I? I noticed a small keyboard tucked underneath the monitor. I pulled it forward so I can see the layout and the surface design. " Ah!", I shouted noticing an apple colored in colors of the rainbow. " An Apple Mark Two Prototype! I remember now! Mister Jobs gave me this to test out. I should get back to him and tell him it worked perfectly."

I typed on the keyboard until the monitor flickered and showed my exact location. It buzzed and flickered on and off, but I was able to see where the TARDIS is hovering over.

" The New Port City tri-state area huh? Jacob's not far from here! I better stop by sometime, he's in for a shocker. And what is this? It seems that this area has some sort of invisible energy field." I circled the area on the dirty monitor. It had to be about twenty five kilometers in diameter. Hundreds of houses, small buildings, parks, a subway, and a small corner of Jacob's humongous mansion were inside. Thousands of people are currently living in a very very powerful energy field and someone, or something, created this and has not told anyone about it!

And I discovered it first!

I felt yet another rush of happiness and joy. I felt the spirit of mystery and adventure. It tickles too! I laughed and skipped around the TARDIS. I piloted the TARDIS and gently sat it down. It made a very loud "BOOM" that made me jump. The TARDIS shook and I heard two popping sounds behind me. I rolled on my belly to face the doors.

" Oh, what did I do now? I landed gently! What more can you want?!"

I stood up and walked calmly toward the door. I looked on the sides of the doors and saw that the hinges broke off. One gently push and the doors would pop off easily! I took and deep breath and carefully placed my hand on the doors and pushed forward softly. The doors slowly opened like it would normal do.

" Hey it's not that ba- GAAAAA-OOF!"

They fell to the ground and I fell forward along with them. I landed on someone's pink slippers. I gazed at the pair of slippers and looked up at a girl about thirteen years old.

She had the same skin color, the same eye color, the same hair color… everything. I touched the soft, fluffy slippers.

" Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

She jerked her feet away and I stood up. I was a couple inches taller than her.

I smiled. I realized I was free from the TARDIS. I can start to feel my joints again. I relaxed for a few minutes, breathing in and out, coughing, and laughing at some points. She might as well call me crazy but what till I get my energy back… I'll be even crazier! Ha ha!

" Um… are you… alright?", she asked.

" Never better, young lady! Never bet-"

I suddenly felt my eyes burn again. This time, it was more painful than ever before. I fell to the ground and covered my eyes. It felt as if I was being stab in the eyes with pins and then the eyes were quickly dipped in acid. She screamed as I screamed. Apparently, my screaming was more high pitched than hers. It stopped suddenly and I stood and continued.

" Never better, young lady! Never better!"

Everything around me was blurry. I can feel my tears cascade down my cheeks. I gently touched them. I couldn't see the details, but I could see the shine on it. I couldn't see the detail on the girl's face either. It was so beautiful… Now it's all gone. I mumbled something. Then I shouted the same thing. I couldn't hear anything I said. A wave of sadness smacked me in the face… and a wave of the girl's hand.

" Hey! Are you listening to me?", she shouted.

I touched the cheek she hit and shouted back, " Yes I was! Why did you hit me?!"

" You were shouting 'I am blind' over and over! You're nearsighted, not blind! What you need is glasses! And did you even hear yourself?"

" No I didn't! I couldn't! I'm still changing! Why do I need glasses? I'm fine!"

" I don't need glasses, it's my new eyes. I just need to get use to them. They will return to normal."

I turned around and walked into a big tree. Who put this here? Was it that Lorax again?

She pulled me up by the sleeve of my wet torned suit, and guided me toward the house where she lived. I felt a sharp pain in my hearts. I quickly knew what it was. I exhaled my regenerative energy. It came out in a beautiful yellow puff of smoke with white sprinkles that reminded me of the stars. Gorgeous gorgeous, I must say! It was the last remnants of me, if i'm correct. The old me of course.

" Ahh, that's better!", I said before burping loudly. " Excuse me! I didn't know I had that in me! Sorry about that."

I sped into the house and into the kitchen. The kitchen was about the normal size of a kitchen. It was complete with a counter, a stove, cabinets, and the usual things that a kitchen would have. A fruit bowl filled with pears sat on the counter. I knew what it was even thought I was blind or nearsighted. I can hear her call for me... but she doesn't know my name. She should know. I saved her planet dozens of times.

She caught up to me and said, " Who do you think you are, barging into my house like that! If my mom or dad were here-"

" I'm in the mood for something to eat.", I boldly interrupted.

Her face turned red with anger. " EXCUSE ME?!", she shouted.

" Food. You know. What you humans eat. I'm quite hungry you know, I just changed into my newest form." I spun around on my heels for her to see. " Eeeh, Eeeh? What do you think?"

Her knuckles were turning as white like the lightbulbs built into the ceiling.

" I guess you don't like it… I'm sorry you don't."

I sat down and swiveled in the chair. " Oh it spins! Wonderful, wonderful! You know, I think, if I'm getting this right I invented the swivel chair once. 1776, oh yes, the good year. Independence from the red coats. Of course, I gave ol' Thomas the credit. Had to anyways. I didn't want the history books to saying that a child named 'Jonathan Doe' invented it all by himself! My dad would've gotten mad and take away my TARDIS key! That's just bonkers! Am I right miss…"

She stopped heavily breathing and loosened her fist. " Clara. Clara Oswald Junior."

" Clara? I know that name from somewhere… that's my father's friend's name! Yea! The impossible girl! I haven't heard from either of them in a long long time!"

I can still see her sweet smile. I even heard a small giggle. " That's what my friends call me at my high school."

" Really? High school? Saaaay… aren't you a little to young for your age?"

She giggled again.

" I'm young for my age, mister. I'm only fifteen."

'That still makes me older than her! I'm only seventy-three years of age and I'm still younger than her! Sweet!', I shouted in my head.

" What do they call people like you in high school? Freshmen?"

" Yeah…" There was a long silence. We stared at each other awkwardly until she walked off to a drawer and pulled out several pairs of glasses.

" I didn't get your age-I mean-your name…"

She handed me the first pair. I examined it closely.

" Square, perfectly shaped. Sliver, good color yes! Nine millimeters thick, not so shabby I guess." I said as I fit the first pair on the bridge of my pointy nose. " Too blurry still. The image was clearer however, but it's still too blurry. So what was the question again?" I placed the glasses on the table and she handed me the next pair.

" Your name. And your age if you want to tell me." I took the next pair of glasses and to my surprise, they looked very familiar. " Round frame, check. Black, yes. Thickness is the same as Harry's. Do you know anyone by the name of Potter?"

" No? Just try them on please. And tell me your name!"

" Alright, alright…" They didn't seem to fit me, but they were clear. Magic still can't cure my Hyperopia. I handed her the glasses and she exchanged me the next one.

" I'm seventy-three."

She blinked once. " Yep, I think this will do. Brown, nice color. Flexible, glass is thick enough for me to see. Let's see if this works."

" Wait wait… you're not… from here?"

" Yes! I'm not really from around here as you can tell by the box outside," I got down from the chair and straightened my back. I stared at her blurry image and grinned. I put the glasses on and everything was clear like looking through a window. Her facial detail was… astonishing!

" My name is the Storyteller. I am the son of the Doctor and the son of River Song. I am the Last Child of Gallifrey and the hero of this planet you call 'Earth'. Any question, Clara Oswald Junior?"


	3. The man he loves, the man he fears

_**Regular POV:**_

It was as if he was given a quiz on his life. Clara kept asking him questions about his origin and about his father. All the Storyteller said was, " It's complicated."

Clara asked about why was he here.

" Well… that's a long story… but I'm happy to tell you!"

He talked about his unpleasant experience in the TARDIS and the pain he went through. He got off topic and started to talk about how the body can only have amounts of pain before it starts to shut down and eventually subdue into death. Then he referred to a list of people who died including Neville Longbottom's parents. He then said that anyone can go through this pain and that he there is no person that he met in his past Clara shuddered but kept her smile. She kindly reminded him to get back on track about the rest of his story.

" Ah yes… my recent regeneration... well… if I can remember, I was badly wounded… I was somewhere out there in space… the year was 1994. I was just with my trusty friend and we were going to leave but… something happened… something… awful…"

The Storyteller frowned and looked at his dirty torn shoes. After all that he went through, the regeneration and almost crashing into the New Port Skyline, he still wore his white converse shoes that his father had given him three years ago in 2010. He wanted to change out of his dirty messy clothing which no longer fit him. His baggy clothes made him look silly and childish but he didn't seem to care or even notice. His father would always supply him new clothing every time he changed. To the Storyteller, most of them sadly were hand-me-downs. He always thought it was embarrassing to get clothing from his dad even though his TARDIS has it's own wardrobe with many arrangements of suits, coats, pants, shoes, and hats. He did have a multi-colored scarf that his dad mistakenly sent him and an umbrella with a question mark at one end. He accepted the hand-me-downs, which had to be shrunken down to his size, so he can not disappoint the only dad he ever had in the seventy-three years he lived. The Storyteller always sends a picture of himself wearing the clothing to show that he got it.

" Storyteller?" Clara asked, scooting closer. " What happened?"

He looks up and pats her on the head with a kind, yet weak smile.

" Oh, she's fine. I know it. As a matter of fact, I will be off now so I can retrieve… erm… meet-up with her again. I just hope she's… fine… and... oh my Rassilon…"

He fell on top of her, causing Clara to let a small yelp. She hissed his name in his ear before the Storyteller said quietly while grasping the collar of his shirt, " _I must go back to the Pride Lands… I must go back to the Pride Lands…_ " before blacking out. Clara didn't know what to do. What is the Pride Lands? _Where_ is it and when? Clara hoisted easily over her shoulder.

' _Don't weigh much do you Storyteller?'_ she said in his ear. ' _Well… don't worry, I'll just get you to my room before-'_

The front door opened.

" Clara? You home from school I assume? And why is the kitchen light on? It's way past your…"

The woman looks down at her daughter places her hands on her hips. She puffed through her nostrils and frowns at the boy slumped over her shoulder.

" Clara Oswin Oswald Junior… you have _a lot_ of explaining to do…"

" Yes, mom…"

* * *

An old man walked out of his house to the mailbox just in front of the driveway. He was about seventy-five years of age with gorgeous silky gray hair and a straight back held up by a back brace. It was close to dark so he had to turn on the lights in the driveway. His shadow cast across the ground. He limped slowly toward the mailbox while whistling the tone of the Toreador's March and stopped to take a break. His long-married wife was fast asleep in bed while listening to an ASMR due to her difficulty sleeping. She would always stop him from getting the mail at night because she was worried for his safety. Every day it's a new excuse; yesterday it was, " There are robbers out there waiting for you near the mailbox!" and the day after that was, " Remember when that handsome superhero defeated that other guy? Well who knows, the other guy could be alive and well! He could come over to the mailbox and kill you!" If all else fails, she would stay awake and watch him all night or until he was fast asleep, hence why she know has trouble sleeping. The old man introduced ASMR to her so that he could escape to the mailbox.

This was the third time he has done this so nothing was different this time… that was until the fog suddenly settled around him. He didn't seem to notice the fog until he heard someone walking from behind him. He slowly turned around and to his utter surprise, it was his mother. The old man knew better that the woman standing before him was dead, he remembered clearly that he attended her funeral a long time ago. It brought tears to his eyes every time he popped in his head.

" Eh... mother? Is that… really…"

She nods and opens her arms out to him. She approaches him slower than how he walked to the mailbox, even though he isn't even there yet. The man walked toward her but stopped short after a putrid stench filled his ancient nostrils. Back when he was making roads for a living, he would smell daily the smell of newly laid asphalt. It would always annoy him to smell that every twice a week. He tried to ignore it, his eyes start to water and he started to cough. The mother charged at him and when she was only a few feet from him, her eyes and mouth changed drastically. The old man tried to scream or run but his feet were glued to the pavement and his scream was too weak for anyone to hear. She opened her mouth at him and chopped down on his head, swallowing it whole. Inside the house, the old lady was fast asleep, still listening to her favorite ASMR…

* * *

The Storyteller woke up in a soft bed, surrounded with orange walls and a large mirror at one end of the room near the door. The room also had a built-in closet and a desk for more clothing. He stared at the ceiling and around himself without sitting up. He wanted to make sure that whoever brought him here wasn't going to do something out of the ordinary, or at least, try to kill him. He laid there for a few moments and sat up quickly, figuring it was safe to move. He didn't realize he was still dizzy until he put his two feet on the floor and fell back in bed. His shoes and most of his clothing were gone, which made him wonder if young Clara had anything to do with this. He blushed in the dark. He rested his head on his palms and stood up again. He can see his dark shadow which made him jump and yelp quietly. He saw the light switch near the mirror and tiptoed his way to it. When he flicked on the lights, he was almost blinded by it. He regained his vision and looked at the half naked person that was him. He was quite shocked how his body turned out; last time he checked, he was all white, with a round belly. He wasn't too fat, of course, but he did have a lot of muscle. This body made him freak out. It made him want to regenerate again and try another body.

The middle of his tanned chest was caved in, his ribs could be seen, and his arms and legs were like twigs. He had mildly hairy armpits and dangerously hairy legs. His feet were small, skinny, and somewhat hairy. It reminded him a little bit like what a Hobbit's feet would look like. He once met the great Frodo and Bilbo Baggins and thought that meant he had turned into one by mistake. His small ankles looked easily breakable and his bony fist looked as if it would break on a single jab. His eyes moved toward his crotch and he quickly averted his eyes, blushing madly.

" This body is a complete disaster…", he croaked.

He turned around to see his back. It wasn't hairy at all, but there was a strange looking wart only inches above the Storyteller's left buttcheek. It was about the size of a nickel and he swore it looked like Thomas Jefferson. He shook his head.

" I need a new body… unless..."

He looked at the closet and smiled

" Ah! No need for another try at a new body, all I need is clothing!" He ran over to the closet and opened it.

" Just a quick thing to change into, that's all. Something formal and maybe something comfortable as well!"

He searched around the closet for something that was formal and comfortable and ending finding two of the three things. He found a green jacket with patterned black stripes and one pair of white lines across his breastbone. The jacket was like an early fall jacket. He also found a green polo shirt with a tree symbol. He loved the style of the shirt and the jacket. He dug around the closet some more to see if he can find some pants.

He found a good pair of jeans. He tried them on, only to find that they were too big for him. He made a mental note to gain some weight and check how much he weighs currently. Next, he searched the drawers until he found green sweatpants with black stripes on the sides that go down the ankle. It even had a green three-leafed clover which the Storyteller thought it was a symbol of hate.

" Why would anyone want the symbol of genocide on sweatpants?! Are these people mad or what?"

The Storyteller couldn't find anything else that was comfortable to wear and something that fit his size, so he had no other choice. He checked the mirror at his new image and was satisfied. There were no hints of him being super-duper skinny, no hint of his pectus, and his Thomas Jefferson wart. He pulled down on the zipper to his sternum so that the collar of the shirt and the buttons were visible. " Stylish, comfortable, and my skin isn't visible! Oh, I got to show Clara!" The Storyteller bolted out of the room and almost collided with the wall opposite of him. He ran against the walls and quickly done the stairs.

" Clara? Hello?"

The living room was empty and the kitchen was too. The Storyteller looked around both rooms. Where was everyone? " Clara? I'm assuming you got some rest as well, right?" The Storyteller jogged back upstairs and approached a door which he never really saw before. It was right next to the door he came out of.

" Remodeling, huh?"

The Storyteller opened the door and to his astonishment, it leads outside.

" Not my type of house really."

The Storyteller leaped out the door and landed on the soft wet grass, cushioning the fall with his hands. He wiped his hands as he got to his feet. He noticed he was in the front yard of the house. The mist was setting in as the Storyteller walked back toward the front door. The mist was dense and heavy, like a handmade woolen blanket that was laid on top of you. There was a slight static feeling in the air. He could hear very faint whispers echo from just beyond his reach. He stood there, ice cold, rigid, and frozen like he was paralyzed. The fog grew heavier each passing moment like something was closing in on him. It truly was an unnerving feeling, the fear of pure fear.

" The fog… it's… alive… but what's feeding it?" the Storyteller said.

Suddenly, he felt it. It was as if the fog was stuck to him. He tried to reach for the doorknob but it moved as slow as molasses. He stopped his hand still in mid-air and only inches from the knob. " I know what you want," he said out loud. He turned his head slowly. " Fear is the food, isn't it?" His head was rotating slowly with his body.

" Fear and the life of those who you've killed? Is that it?"

He was know facing to the left.

" The fog, is it a source of energy?"

He remembers seeing it on the monitor, the energy field covering twenty-five kilometers.

" It's best not to use anyone anymore. Now that I'm here…"

He was know facing the fog in front. Everything around him was now white. " It's time to stop the attacks. I know the whispers. Do you even know them?"

A shadow was emerging from within the fog. The black figure kept getting bigger and bigger.

" It's not normal that a creature should at least know it's victims. But if it's _him_ you will choose."

The fog evaporates around the figure. The figure was an old man, his coat was brown and dirty, his face worn and tired. His scarf hanged around his neck loosely. He carried a strange looking rifle in his hand.

" I knew it. I was only here for a few hours and yet I'm able to figure out what you are. It's not obvious, you know, but it was easy to figure out. The energy field, the attacks, the whispers, you."

He dropped the rifle at the Storyteller's feet.

" You change into the people that you love, that's how you get to them. But that's not how it starts, does it? You stalk them, right?"

The old man's beady eyes stared down at the Time Child.

" As you do so, you feed off their fear, then you become stronger and you can possess things," the Storyteller rubbed the fog with his fingers. " Why a fog? Because it's creepy and ominous, hence why I can feel the static. It's so caked up with energy that it can almost… kill."

The old man's hands turned into claws.

" Once you become stronger, you can attack them. But that can take months, even years for you to conjure enough strength for that. But yet you managed to kill about… ten people, recently two, hm?"

His body morphed into a snake-like creature with red eyes with black slits. The Storyteller kept his eyes on the creature with a stern face.

" Fear is the food. Then why go all out on me when I have nothing to give?"

It hissed at him, black saliva spat on the Storyteller's face.

" It's because you think you chose a person I fear, but you chose someone I love. The Doctor."

The creature stared at him and returned to the old man.

" Yes, you scan the person's memory through the fog, the air, anything you can get your crummy hands on. But when you looked inside my mind, you found him. The man I love, but the man I fear."

The Storyteller, who stood perfectly calm, moved normally to the old man and hugged him.

" You could've chosen a Dalek, or a Cyberman, or a Weeping Angel, but you have certain amounts of rules to follow. Choose a person in the victim's life that is lovable, then be fearable. So you chose the Doctor, a different Doctor to be specific. Besides, I was wise enough to choose him myself."

The old man know snarled under his breath.

" Now if you excuse me, I have something to catch up on, sleep." He walked away from the creature and opened the door.

" See you in a few hours," he said as he closed the door behind him. Just before he could even get only a few inches from the door, one of the claws went through the door to reached out to him. It turned him around and another clawed went through the Storyteller's chest. Blood erupted, and the Storyteller went limp.


	4. A Time Lord's Dream

_The sparks flew freely around my ship; they bounced off the walls and off my face and hair as my fingers danced around the controls of my time capsule, pulling switches and turning dials. I was afraid that my ginormous hair would catch fire... again. I paid no attention to the explosions and the dangling wires. I felt the tiny broken glass pieces pierce my back when a bulb exploded on the wall behind me. I gasped in pain. I was bleeding, of course, all humans do that… only except I'm not one as you can possibly tell. I felt the wounds sealing themselves up. I sighed in relief. It felt like some placed nice cold ice packs on my sweaty, bleeding, back. As for the rest of my body, it was still making changes internally. Mostly just the finishing touches. Sometimes, I felt a slight, sharp, jolt of pain in my body that had me on my hands and knees coughing._

" _The New Port City tri-state area huh? Jacob's not far from here! I better stop by sometime. Boy, he's in for a shocker! And what is this? It seems that this area has some sort of invisible energy field." I circled the area on the dirty monitor. It had to be about twenty-five kilometers in diameter. Hundreds of houses, small buildings, parks, a subway, and a small corner of Jacob's humongous mansion were inside. Thousands of people are currently living in a very very powerful energy field and someone, or something, created this and has not told anyone about it!_

 _She had the same skin color, the same eye color, the same hair color… everything. I touched the soft, fluffy slippers._

" _Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she shouted._

 _She jerked her feet away and I stood up. I was a couple inches taller than her._

 _I smiled. I realized I was free from the TARDIS. I can start to feel my joints again. I relaxed for a few minutes, breathing in and out, coughing, and laughing at some points. She might as well call me crazy but what till I get my energy back… I'll be even crazier! Ha ha!_

 _Everything around me was blurry. I can feel my tears cascade down my cheeks. I gently touched them. I couldn't see the details, but I could see the shine on it. I couldn't see the detail on the girl's face either. It was so beautiful… Now it's all gone. I mumbled something. Then I shouted the same thing. I couldn't hear anything I said. A wave of sadness smacked me in the face… and a wave of the girl's hand._

 _I sat down and swiveled in the chair. " Oh, it spins! Wonderful, wonderful! You know, I think, if I'm getting this right I invented the swivel chair once. 1776, oh yes, the good year. Independence from the red coats. Of course, I gave ol' Thomas the credit. Had to anyways. I didn't want the history books to saying that a child named 'Jonathan Doe' invented it all by himself! My dad would've gotten mad and taken away my TARDIS key! That's just bonkers! Am I right miss…"_

 _She stopped heavily breathing and loosened her fist. " Clara. Clara Oswald Junior."_

" _Clara? I know that name from somewhere… that's my father's friend's name! Yea! The impossible girl! I haven't heard from either of them in a long long time!"_

" _My name is the Storyteller. I am the son of the Doctor and the son of River Song. I am the Last Child of Gallifrey and the hero of this planet you call 'Earth'. Any question, Clara Oswald Junior?"_

* * *

The Storyteller never wanted this to happen again, but the moment was already prepared for him… the pain was once again unbearable for him, he never wanted to feel it again. But it was meant to be. That's what the dream was all about. The pain of losing the face and the body that he loved, the face of a young girl that he loved, and the pain of knowing that he would never go back.

When he quickly found the clothing, he hurried out of the room. He saw the Doctor again, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up the rifle and shot him. The creature evaporated on contact of the beam. He threw the rifle down and closed his eyes.

" I'm going back to the bedroom…"

Those words echoed in his mind and he jolted awake. He found himself again with no clothing. The door opened and Clara walked in, " Storyteller? Are you…"

" Fine! Never better! Never in my life have I felt better!"

In fact, he wasn't alright. But a huge smile hid the pure shame of his failure. He was so worked up about his emotions, he didn't realize that he was still almost wearing nothing. Clara blushed and quickly turned away as the Storyteller got his clothing on for the third time.

" Done! What do you think?" The Storyteller did a small spin.

" I… think it's wonderful. Why are you up anyways?"

" Because I had a wonderful dream! In fact, I can get rid of your tri-state area's problem of the strange murders that have been happening around these parts… or is it parks?"

" How do you know about the murders?"

" I didn't! I'll explain once we get everything squared away! Meet downstairs right… now!"

He rushed past Clara and tumbled down the stairs with excitement. Clara giggled as the Storyteller got up and ran to the backyard. He noticed that the world around him was now covered in thick fog. Probably it was the thickest it has been, he can the whispers of the dead and the living.

" I better fix this quickly before-"

An ear piercing scream filled the air from the house to the right and the sound of the creatures followed. The Storyteller hurried along inside his still broken TARDIS and flipped several switches along the dirty, broken console. Some of the switches fell off so the Storyteller had to use something he thought he would never use again: his fist. He banged on the console until it roared to life for the last time. Clara entered.

" Hey! Knock before entering!" shouted the Storyteller from behind the console.

Clara placed her hands on her hips. " There's nothing to knock on! What are you doing anyways?"

" I'm sending a message to the _things_ , the _creatures_ in all of our dreams, the…"

" _Dream Killers?_ "

" YES! Oh good name, Miss Oswald! Brilliant name, I must say!"

The Storyteller held down a small gray button and cleared his throat. " I'm going to make this message loud, clear, and very very short. Well, maybe not short, but shorter than your lives."

The screams outside stopped.

" Are they here?"

" Well of course they are! They have reached a point where they can attack, they've been saving up energy for so long now that they can attack in our world instead of the dream world."

" So how are you talking to them?"

" I fixed up the TARDIS's matrix a bit to send a signal to the Dream Killers, your Dream Killers, everyone's as well. I'm using a high frequency and the dense air to send the message. Oh, shoot..."

" What? What's wrong?"

" This thing was on while I was talking…

The fog started to leak into the TARDIS, the Storyteller grabbed Clara and pulled her behind him.

" Whatever you do, do not touch the fog."

A figure started to emerge. It took the form of a woman.

" Mom?!" Clara shouted.

" That's not your mother, Clara. You know what it is…"

Clara looked up at the Storyteller and back to what is her mother.

" We are lucky enough that the Killer's time manipulation doesn't work here," He slowly approached, Clara's mother. " It's the TARDIS of course, haven't you've been paying attention? Don't you know who I am?"

" You are the Storyteller…" it said, it's voice like sandpaper and someone being strangled.

" Yes, and?"

" You're father is the Doctor,"

" And?"

" I will kill you."

" Very short spoken, but you are forgetting one thing," he smirked. " I still my finger on the small gray button. Did you hear that Dream Killer's all over the world?"

Clara saw that the Dream Killer in front of her showed that it heard it loud and clear.

" I am the one that can stop anything, anyone if I must! My father is the Doctor and will always be the Doctor! And to the people of the earth, I leave you this cryptic message…" The Storyteller ran over to the keyboard and quickly typed the message. He slammed a button and proudly strolled to the Dream Killer.

" You see, you think that you're smart, just because you possess the soul of Kruger, but deep inside, you are just like him. Stupid, one-sided, weird, cussed a lot, well maybe that's not you, but he was very ill-minded. So ill-minded, in fact, I sent a message that you won't be able to translate for millions of years! Actually, more like you won't just easily translate it. AND I DID IT ALL FROM A BROKEN TARDIS! WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THAT, DREAM KILLER!?"

All it did was smile.

" You really think you have won?"

" Well… yeah? I just sent a message to every single human being in the world on how to destroy your kind, which is pretty obvious, but what could you do? Kill me?"

" We induce nightmares, Storyteller."

" As if I didn't know that…"

" And if we can't do it to you, we can do it in the name of a Clara Oswald."

The Storyteller laughed, Clara gulped. " Her? What can you do? She already knows how to defeat you," he said nudging her in the arm tenderly. " What can you possibly…"

The creature smiled and hollered Killer's hands turned into razor sharp claws.

" Storyteller…" Clara whispered.

It raised it's claws high in the air and dug its claws deep into its chest.

" NOOOO!", the Storyteller shouted as it screamed in sheer pain.

Red blood squirted out as it collapsed to the ground. It's screamed went from it's ghostly holler to a human scream. Clara Junior cried out to her mother as the Storyteller tried the best he could to stop the bleeding. The Storyteller kept screaming her name as his hands were soaked with her blood. He struggled to get his coat off and he used it to cover the large wound. Oswald looked up at the Storyteller, struggling for air. She went to reach out to him, only for her bloody hand to skim the front of his shirt near the collar and the buttons.

" _Take care of her…_ " she mouthed before she closed her eyes and went limp. He placed two fingers on the side of her neck.

" No… oh Rassilon no… please…"

The Storyteller stepped back from the body and bumped into the console. Clara was weeping on her mother as the Storyteller blankly stared at them. He swallowed hard, he felt a lump in his throat and his stomach ached with sympathy. He turned away, but he can still hear her crying. The Storyteller covered his ears.

" No… more…" he whispered. He heard something else… the screams of another person. And then another. And another. He could hear the screams of his people, the screams of both Clara's, and the scream of Abby Pond.

" NO MORE! NO MORE!"

Clara looked up, shocked at the Storyteller's rage. " What?!" " No more," the Storyteller said through clenched teeth. " I won't let anyone die at the hands of me any longer… no more…"

The Storyteller himself dragged the body outside and covered her face with his green jacket. He rather see the wound, which he could clearly see Oswald's stomach and other innards. The Storyteller placed the doors back on the hinges without saying a word to Clara. The door would fall down once and awhile and the Storyteller would throw a fit.

" I CAN'T!", He shouted as he threw a nearby stone in his TARDIS. The stone cracked the glass cylinder, which made him even angrier.

" AARRGH! STUPID… BLASTED… HANDS! WHY MUST RASSILON PAY ME THIS WAY!? WHAT HAVE I DONE!"

" STORYTELLER, PLEASE!" Clara shouted, still consulting her dead mother. " Stop with the yelling, stop with the fits, please…"

" Clara… I. LOST. EVERYTHING!"

" LIKE WHAT?!"

The Storyteller paused, he smiled, " Like what? LIKE WHAT? Here, let me tell you a story about a young boy who all he wanted to do, was to travel along in time and space, only to end up, one, lose his people, two, lose his father, three, lose the love of my life, four, my ship, AND FIVE, oh boy five, MY FACE!"

" What's wrong with it?"  
" Everything! Look at it! The hair, the eyes, the mouth! My body is a complete disaster!"

The Storyteller began to tear up and his eyes quickly became glossy. " I lost two people that hold dear and I can't do anything about it! My father can't see me nor can I see him, and-and… Abby! I lost her… oh my…"

He burst out crying. He fell to the ground sobbing away like a baby.

" I should've died! I shouldn't have used the Time Lord's Dream. It was going to be no use to me anyways! I hate everything!"

He continued to sob until Clara crawled over to consult him. Blood was still preserved on her hands, but still, he rubbed his back until he calmed down. His face rose up, his eyes bloodshot red, tears falling down his face, cheeks red, and his lower lip shuddering. Clara to had tears down her face, but she wiped his first. The Storyteller took in a deep breath and exhaled on Clara's face. She didn't seem to care that his breath smelled like failure and disappointment.

" I forgot to say that… I lost the... one... thing that really... defies... who I am," he hiccuped. " Well two... things, really."

" Tell me them, please. Tell me anything." she quickly said to steer the conversation so where else.

" I have this thing… this device… I don't know where it went but he could help me with fixing the doors."

" What did it look like?"

" It was blue at the tip. It's like a wand except all silver, I could extend it to collect more data. While it's extended, I can see it's beautiful yellow core. The bottom of it which was black, I designed it so that it was soft and flexible so that my wrist or my palm wouldn't be scratched up by it. Heh, sometimes I even chew on it or use to. I don't think I have that habit anymore. It was a stress thing, y'know? I was very stressful in my younger body."

" What's it called?"

" It called a Sonic Screwdriver. My father gave it to me when he didn't want it anymore. He got a new one, I think."

Clara smiled. " I think I have it," she dug into her back pocket and took it out. " It was on your ship. That was the first time I also went inside it."

The Storyteller took at and smiled delightedly at it.

" What did you think? No, wait, what did you say?"

" Well… I said…"

" Yes?"

" ' It's quite dirty in here? What the hell happened?'"

" HEY LANGUAGE!" The Storyteller quickly covered his mouth after suddenly blurting out something he has never heard before nor said."

" Excuse me?"

" Sorry! So sorry… that was quite rude… that's new… sorry…"

" That's fine- WAIT! Where are you going?!" She yelled as she followed him.

The Storyteller finally fixed his doors and was preparing to leave.

" To fix my ship of course! Look around you, you said it's quite a mess right?"

"Yeah but..."

" Clara… you need to stay with your mom. Have the funeral, spend time with your family, recover. You've been through a lot…" He looked beyond the fence at the other houses and from afar, he can see New Port City. " The world needs to recover…"

" From what?"

The Storyteller smiled. He puffed out his chest and let his big, puffy, curly hair catch some wind.

" For… eh… not me… uh… not being here for a while... I didn't know I was gone for quite some time…"

Clara smiled weakly.

" Goodbye, Storyteller."

He nodded in reply and closed both doors. When the TARDIS left( its dematerialization sound was off key and was horrible to listen to), the police arrived soon after. All the found was the poor daughter of Clara Oswin Oswald and her father, Danny Oswald…

* * *

It is now November 3rd of the same year, the funeral was yesterday and today was another day for Clara Jr. She hated how the house was so empty after the events of the Dream Killers. She found some entertainment to keep her mind of her mother; once, she made up a cool nickname for the Dream Killers. She thought 'The Third Kind' was an awesome name. Mister Oswald( the Danny Pink of your universe), would periodically check on his daughter. He had no problem of hiding his emotions because he never wanted to break down in front of Clara Jr. She didn't mind him coming in to check in once and awhile even though she wanted to be alone. She knew it was because he could look upon her face and see his wife. Clara couldn't even look in the mirror like she always could.

As she was staring at her ceiling in her green colored room, she heard a sound. The sound of something she's been looking forward to in a long time. She hopped out of bed and ran downstairs. Danny was sitting on the couch watching TV when she scurried past.

" Hey, where are you-"

" I'm going to see my friend, dad! He's back!"

" Who's back? Who's your friend?"

She just smiled, she was too excited to answer. Danny chased after her to find the blue box resting under the tree. Danny stared in disbelief. Who is this kid?

" Hello, Mister Oswald. And hello Clara Oswald!" he said happily as he embraced Clara in a warm hug.

" Um… did I miss something?" Danny asked peering his head around his daughter's head. Clara introduced him to the Storyteller, who is now wearing the same green clothes which had no trace of blood. The Storyteller was considering showing him what's inside the TARDIS but though otherwise. He was worried that the father wouldn't even consider having a strange good looking kid with a box as a friend. " Clara," the Storyteller whispered nervously. " I erm… wanted to know if…"

" Dad, can you leave us please?"

Both the Storyteller and Danny were surprised.

" Um… sure?"

" Thanks, daddy!"

Clara hugs him and Danny leaves the two. The time child smiled brightly. " I want to show you something."

The Storyteller opened both the TARDIS doors and Clara walks inside. She looked around in awe.

The entire interior was a bright orange. The gray stairs leading up to the wacky looking console. The console itself looks as if it went dumpster diving, but Clara thought that the Storyteller somehow knows how to control whatever this thing is normally. IT reminded her of the previous one that she investigated while he was asleep. Thick gray wires hung loosely above the controls and a small monitor hung above a large lever, larger than the others.

" It's my dad's TARDIS, Clara," he said taking pride in his new ship. " My dad gave me, or should I say, grew me a TARDIS just like his."

" Grew?"

" Yes! A coral TARDIS was my first one, the one that you were just in and the one that you said was 'quite dirty'. You did say that right?"

Clara blushed and nodded slowly.

" My dad copied the TARDIS matrix into this one so that he gets what I get. Believe it or not, it takes thousands, even millions of years to grow a TARDIS!"

" How did he do it?"

" He has a time machine, Miss Oswald. Time is something that you must be careful with, my dad used it… well properly."

Clara walked up the gray stairs and touched the console with care. He looked at the Storyteller to make sure it was ok. He smiled. " She likes you."

" Who?"

" The TARDIS. She likes you. She thinks you are very pretty."

Clara smirks at the console and turns to the Storyteller.

" What about you?"

His face lit up suddenly like a Christmas tree. " Oh! Uh! Yes! I love… yes! I think you are very… erm… pretty! As a matter of fact, I love the color orange and I know you do to cause this is all orange and-"

" Storyteller, breath."

" Oh…"

He breathes in and exhales.

" Suppose you are wondering about how I defeated the Dream Killer, a brilliant name by the way."

" Thank you. And yes, how did you do it?

The Storyteller blushed and bowed his head. " I did a nasty trick."

" Nasty?"

" Well… not nasty nasty, nasty enough for Time Lords to smack me across the face." He looked up at Clara to she her confused at the species name. " It's what I am. I'm an alien from another planet called Gallifrey."

" Oh yes, you told me that already."

" Good, so, the nasty trick!" He clapped his hands and said, " The Time Lord's Dream!"

" Wha-"

" I'll tell you, don't you fret… or worry… or cry… ANYWAYS! Humans can dream and they see things that make them question what they saw. Sometimes, the dreams are so realistic, that they think it actually happened. Some even think that dreams predict the future, turns out that dreams are only what people _feel_ about it.

" So we, the superior beings of the universe, no offense-"

" None taken…"

" Can also have dreams. However, we can dream about the future."

" Okay? What's the catch? There's always a catch right?"

" Right you are, Miss Oswald! Right you are! We can have this dream the moment after regeneration and we have to make this choice once we are done or no dream."

" Why do people- Time Lords I mean- use it?"

The Storyteller shrugged. " Well… just for predicting the future of course. Legendary time lords are always the most paranoid ones, so they tend to use it a lot. How do you think Nostradamus did it?"

" Nostradamus was a-"

" Yeah, a lot of people don't know that. Strange. It's quite obvious. Most of the predictions he got were strongly accurate. I traveled back to see this myself. And sure enough, he was one. He had a lot of faces, but one is the one he died with. He taught me how he did it. I don't remember the rest..."

" Huh…"

Clara was trying to put this all together. The spaceship is called the TARDIS, a time and space machine and he met Nostradamus, who's a Time Lord? What the heck?

" So… why did you use it?"

The Storyteller smile slowly faded away, his eyes fixed on the ground. Clara waved her hand. The Storyteller woke up and smiled brightly.

" So! I used the dream, because why not, and learned about the Dream Killer, actually I never really knew much all about them, until the dream me told me everything I needed to know. And you know right? How to defeat them?"

Clara nodded.

" Good! Now off you go, that all you need to know."

" Mmm… excuse me, what?"

" Get out, that's what. Sorry about this but this is for your own good."

" _My own good?!_ "

" Yes. Clara. I know what you are thinking. And no, I can't allow you on my ship so, please. Go. Before you end up like Abby-" The Storyteller bit his lip and opened the door. " This is… it."

Clara shook her head. After all she went through these past months. After painfully watching her mother being lowered into the ground. After days which felt like years to her of waiting for the Tri-State area's hero, this was it? No! This couldn't be for her! Not this time.

" Who's Abby?"

" No one! Please! I don't want another one being killed at the hands of me!"

" What?!"

" Clara! Listen to me! I don't want you dead!"

" I'm not leaving!"

The Storyteller clenched his fist and looked away from her.

" You aren't? You… won't?"

" No! Since you told me all this, I can't just simply go outside! Please, Storyteller, take me with you. Take me away from all of this. Take me away from my family. Let me see what the world is like."

He thought about this for a long time. Clara was growing impatient.

" Well? Can I got or not?

He nodded.

" Ok… ok… fine. One trip."

" But-"

" ONE. Trip. And please, no questions about… about… where do you want to go?"

Clara pondered on the question for far too long.

" Well?"

" Hold on, sir. Gosh."

The Storyteller tapped his foot impatiently.

" Somewhere cold. Somewhere that's not here, but is here.", Clara finally answered.

. He loved when companions gave him riddles or request like this. Companion? No. Clara's just a visitor, that's all. She won't stay for long. Just one trip, that's all.

The Storyteller smiled Clara breathed again and was glad to see that he was finally smiling again.

" So, a place that's cold and is located on Earth. Not near the city, and is certainly not in this time period, no sir-ma'am! Ma'am… yes…"

The Storyteller's hands danced around the console, pushing buttons and slamming down levers. On the typewriter, he punched in coordinates and the time of their destination.

" Is this place good?"

Clara looked at the screen and frowned.

" What's Arendale?"

" You mean, Arendelle? The cold place! And it's in the seventeen-eighties!"

Clara nodded, her lips bulging out a bit. " Not bad, Storyteller. But it's a pity that it's only one trip…"

The Storyteller smiled weakly.

" Yeah." The Storyteller flips the biggest lever on the console and the TARDIS started to dematerialize. Outside, Danny ran out to see what was all that noise. All he saw was an empty backyard.

" Clara? Clara!"

* * *

 _ **The Storyteller and Clara will return in the revisited adventures in**_

" _**The Witch of Arendelle."**_


	5. Update about us!

_**Yep! You heard us, folks! We are doing a Frozen crossover soon! UUUUUUGHH! I know, sorry! Confused on why " The Witch of Arendelle" will replace "Frostopia"? Well, after a long and confusing debate, we decided that the Storyteller will travel through movies/tv shows/games/etc. based on the year his in. Since the Time Child as being gone for a while during his regeneration, we are doing a bit of a catch-up. So since it is 2013 in his point of view, we are typing episodes with things that were popular in pop culture. However, there are two episodes we are keeping the same(sort of): " An Unearthly World" and "The Games of Beldam". Those stories have a lot of lore in it that we can't replace, so we are keeping it the way it is, but changing some things around. Don't worry, you will still see the Storyteller stare at the door for hours and the pink kitten notepad.**_

 _ **Good news or bad news?**_

 _ **Bad news, we are going to stop with the revisited adventures because, good news, production of Jake and Janet's Universe's Five Night's at Freddy's Season Three and Four and Season Two of the Storyteller is in full swing! We are going to be focusing on that and leave the revisited series alone… for now. So read what you can of classical Season 1 cause it's going to change soon. OH! And we are also going to be working on revisiting our FNaF series as well, but that's put on pause too.**_

 _ **SO IS EVERYTHING ELSE! NO CCATPF, NO CHERNOBYL STORY, NO ANYTHING ELSE UNTIL WE ARE DONE WITH WHATEVER WE NEED TO GET DONE!**_

 _ **Sorry about this, we still love you. Expect a trailer for the season in the future, perhaps… Christmas? ;)**_

 _ **~ The holly jolly Jake and Janet's Universe cast and crew.**_


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